


Not that anyone here but you would understand

by areyoumarriedriver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/pseuds/areyoumarriedriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This job though, would easily cover her next quarter at school, and she smiles eagerly. This Doctor person, whoever he was- didn’t know what he was in for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not that anyone here but you would understand

**Author's Note:**

> Written in early 2011, before we knew who River was - or rather what she was. So it's completely AU now.

**_Not that anyone here but you would understand_ **   
  


 

_You think I'm not a goddess?_  
Try me.  
This is a torch song.  
Touch me and you'll burn

 

“We’re willing to pay you very highly for this.” The man across from her exudes a mysterious air, and she doesn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, but then again she’s frankly never met a client she  _has_  trusted so this is nothing new.

“Yes, but for  _what_  exactly? You’re not being very specific are you?” She points this out bluntly, folding her arms and staring across the table at him levelly. She is used to cloak and dagger, of course – though this client seems to be taking the  _cloak_  part of it all literally, his blue hood drawn over his head completely and hiding his face – but this vague attempt to hire her is a bit ridiculous. She’d have left long ago if not for the bag full of credits lying on the table.

“We need you to kidnap the target. Well, kidnap is a strong word.  _Detain_.”

“I don’t do torture.” Her voice is terse and she uncrosses her arms, one hand moving down to the holster strapped to her bare thigh under the table. She unbuckles it silently, comforted by the cool metal of her plasma gun under her fingers.

“No of course not. We just need him distracted. Out of the picture for a twelve hour window. I don’t really care _how_ you achieve that, Miss Song – whatever you feel is best.” His voice is low and  _implies_  so many things. She doesn’t whore herself out either, but she restrains from pointing that out. She has been known to do personal escorts a time or two for cash – petty thefts and some dancing. The occasional assault – but she did those only when times were desperate.

“Why twelve hours?”

“It’s my favourite number.” Sarcasm is evident in his tone and he continues, “I said no questions.” His answer is curt and she nods. He slides a picture across the tableand she can’t help but let out a short bark of laughter.

“ _This_  is the man you need taken care of? He looks like he couldn’t even find his way in to a  _bar_  let alone cause trouble for you.” She studies the image – black and white and somewhat grainy but none of it hiding the youth, or the floppy hair or the ridiculous clothes the target is wearing.

“Do not judge by his appearance alone, Miss Song. He can be dangerous. Probably the most intelligent man in the universe. But he’ll be... distracted by you. This is a list of aliases he’s been known to use-” Another sheet is slid across the table and she scans it quickly, her eyes wide. There must be close to a hundred different names listed and she frowns. “-and remember Miss Song. Half now, half when the job is accomplished. This need not be painful or even unpleasant for you.” The bag of credits is pushed into her hands and she grasps it loosely, feeling the shape of the currency under the blue cloth. “He’ll be here, tomorrow. Seven in the evening. Your twelve hours begin then. Do _not_  disappoint us, Miss Song. Consequences could be... unpleasant.” The bastard doesn’t even wait for her agreement before standing and striding through the dim bar, cloak wrapped around him protectively.

She pockets the money and stands, the photo still in her hand. It’s not a bad assignment really – just keep one bloke out of the way for one night. She can do that. And really he’s not unattractive, in a sort of gangly, childish way, she muses.

She exits the bar – grateful that she is able to look at the owner Dervo, and refuse his unasked question about the chances of her needing a job tonight. He likes to hire her to dance every now and then, when she needs the money. University is a lot more expensive than she would like – but she was determined to get her doctorate. She’d left the home at seventeen after earning her acceptance – and she’d no intention of ever letting a little thing like lack of funds get in the way of her goals.

She had skills. She was a handy lock pick, an excellent thief, and her aim with a plasma gun was unparalleled. So she used them – earned cash with the jobs she could procure, and sometimes was forced to stoop a little lower if the jobs were few and far between.

This job though, would easily cover her next quarter at school, and she smiles eagerly. This Doctor person, whoever he was- didn’t know what he was in for.

                                                               

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She arrives at the bar earlier than his arrival time, orders a drink from the bartender and moves over to a booth in the corner. She knew he wouldn’t be difficult to spot in the dark atmosphere and she applies her lipstick while she waits, wondering how best to go about this. Normally she was an incessant planner, but something told her that it would be of no use with this target. Best to work on the fly.

“You dancing tonight sweetheart?” Dervo drops her drink on the table with a leer and she glares up at him darkly.

“I’m working, Dervo. And hopefully I won’t need to accept a job from you any time in the near future, so cheers for that.” She turns in her seat and raises her glass to swallow a drink, grinning as he frowns at her before lumbering away to the bar. When she turns back to her booth, she nearly falls out of her seat in shock.

The target is sitting across from her, grinning broadly.  _Happily_. “Hello sweetie.” His voice is teasing and she looks at him in clear confusion. She knew that the client had said he would be distracted by her – but she didn’t think it would be  _quite_  so easy.  She stares at him for a moment before shrugging and knocking back the rest of her drink.

“You clearly are a bad judge of character. Otherwise you’d know I’m anything but  _sweet_ , mister.” Her voice is low and a frown crosses his face – genuine and bereft – like someone had just kicked his puppy in front of him. He looks baffled.

“Well you – I mean you’re very  _young_  and-” His hands are waving in front of him and he is visibly shaken. She finds it an odd combination of terrifying and endearing. Dear God, how is that even  _possible_? There is something about the way he is watching her though – something within his eyes that both welcomes and frightens her.

“I’m twenty-two, dear. Not  _that_  young.” She points this out and he seems to relax fractionally at the endearment. “Why? How old are _you?”_  She grins, pushing the melting ice cube sin her drink around with her straw.

“Old enough to know better.” His words are so low she almost doesn’t catch them, but she’s straining to hear him so she of course,  _does_ catch them. Smiling, she slides out of her side of the booth and sits next to him, pinning him into the corner, her thigh pressed against his pant leg.

“Still too young to care, dear?” She tilts her head and his eyes are drawn to her neckline – appropriately very plunging. This close she can smell him – something sweet but not cloying – just appetising. Her mouth waters. The shoulder of his tweed coat brushes against her bare arm and shoulder and she resists the urge to pull away.

He inches away until his back is pressed against the cheap wooden panelling on the wall. She moves in closer, her smile turning toward dangerous. “You don’t even know my name!” His protest is stammered out and she laughs, genuinely. His hair is in his face and her hand twitches, an odd longing filling her to brush it out of the way for him. She takes a deep breath and frowns at herself. This wasn’t  _that_  kind of job.

 _It could be_.

She turns her frown into a beguiling smile. “Well then sweetie, what’s your name?” He visibly brightens at her use of his endearment and she thinks he likes it.

“The Doctor.”

“Doctor of what?” She asks idly, moving closer to him still. He doesn’t recoil this time though, and she smiles at the small triumph. Her hand is in her hair, twirling the curls there absent-mindedly as he smiles at her patiently.

“Just the Doctor. I mean I have doctorates – but it’s a bit of this and a bit of that. Loads of things really. Maybe everything – at least a little.” She finds his manner absurdly charming, and she doesn’t quite know what to do with that. She was toying with the idea of just drugging him – handcuffing him somewhere until the twelve hours were up, but now her traitorous mind is whispering ideas of handcuffing him somewhere, but there being no drugging involved. She can feel a warm tingle suffuse across her skin at the thought and she smiles up at him.

“Well, just the Doctor – I’m River Song.” She holds out a hand and he takes it in his with a small smile – the corner of his mouth just tilting up ever so slightly. He doesn’t shake it though; he simply runs his fingers along the back of her hand, tracing the delicate bones there.

“River Song. I like it – that is a fantastic name.” He grins properly then and pushes forward until he is flush against her, invading every inch of her personal space as if he has no concept of the  _meaning_  of the term. “Can I show you something River Song?” Her heart trips when he says her name – because she`s never heard it spoken in quite that way before.

“That’s a rather old line, sweetie.” She smiles up at him and he flushes bright red.

“Oh no! No, no, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all – it’s just that I have a thing – out in the alley – oh, that doesn’t sound any better does it?” He frowns in frustration and she takes pity on the poor man before he talks himself into an even bigger mess.

“I’ll come anyway. Show me.” She speaks simply, leaning across the table for her purse before sliding out of the booth and reaching down to take his hand. It’s large, and she feels her own is ridiculously tiny in comparison, but something about the fit of it feels perfect. It’s that feeling again, that hovering on delight and terror feeling that sends her heart tripping against her ribcage.

“That’s quite reckless of you, River.” He is chastising her even as he walks her out the front door and she finds him to be a mass of contradictions – lecturing her on safety as he drags her out into an alley behind the bar. There is an odd blue box there, and she smiles at the sight of it – because it is an antique – ridiculous and so clearly very  _old_  despite looking brand-new. And  _so_ blue. He stands back with a grin as she runs her hands over the wood.

“Twentieth century Earth right?” She is grinning and looks over her shoulder at him. “Where in the galaxy did you find this?”

“Oh right – archaeologist.” He snaps his fingers and the door eases open, warm golden light spilling out into the alleyway.  She glances sharply at him, backing away slightly and eying him suspiciously.

“I didn’t tell you that.” She feels nervous suddenly, as though she’s on the precipice of something but it seems a bit ridiculous – it’s just a man. Just an antique box.

“Yeah, you did. Or you will have. And it’s not  _just_  a box.” He waves a hand at the doorway and she thinks it’s ridiculous. There is no reason to go inside. No reason to – to put herself into an unknown scenario. She never allows the targets to gain the upper hand. But it feels like her heart is pounding itself against her ribcage in a concerted effort to be nearer this man – this man and his impossibly new old box. “Come on, River. You can trust me.”

She can’t. She really, really can’t – because she doesn’t trust  _anyone_. Ever. It’s a lesson she learned the very, very hard way. The very not good, very young, very  _bad_  hard way. But almost of its own volition, her hand is sliding into his and she is stepping into the blue box behind him.

Inside, she is staring around her in wonder. The sheer size of the room – the heart of its engine running floor to ceiling – the floors seem to hum underneath her feet and she laughs out loud. “It’s a ship.” He pouts, clearly disappointed by this statement before pulling her up the steps and pushing her down into the seat by the railing.

“Of course it’s a ship. TARDIS – isn’t she wonderful? She can go anywhere – any _when_. So.” He claps his hands and spreads his arms, looking over at her. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Time travel.  _Of course_. It made so much more sense now and she laughed, shaking her head. “Oh no. I know how you time travellers are, Doctor. Always promising to have you back on time – but never quite reliably managing to do it. I dated a Time Agent once – he  _missed_ everything. Always hopping off to this when and that when.” She slips her shoes off, letting the heels clatter to the glass floor beside her and she sets her purse down beside them before she stands, and walks over to him, wanting to smooth the disappointed little-boy look off of his face.

“Oh.” His voice is small and she frowned. “I’d have thought I’d have at least given you a quick run to the moon or ancient Greece or _something_.” She frowns at him in confusion, before running her hands over the lapels of his ridiculous jacket. When her fingers reach his bowtie, she smiles softly.

“You can show me around though.” She points out softly, and he smiles down at her at that. “Just no leaving my time stream, yeah? I’ve three papers due next week and can’t afford to miss that.”

“Alright. Would you like to start now?” His face lights up and he is taking her hands, turning them both to face the center console and pointing out various parts and knobs, listing off their uses. She laughs, and reaches out, gripping his jacket in one hand and pulling him toward her.

“Sweetie, I don’t need to learn how to pilot your ship, there are much more interesting things you could show me.” She doesn’t give him a chance to protest or argue or point out a thermo-coupling device she should  _really really_  see, she just pulls him into her until her mouth meets his.

His lips are soft. And he tastes even better than he smells, which she honestly didn’t think was possible. His hands wave about for about five seconds before they settle on her shoulders and slide down to her spine, laid bare in the dress she was wearing. His hands touch her with  _just_ the right amount of pressure, and she shivers against him. It feels like his hands were  _made_ to touch her, and she smiles against his mouth sweetly. For all her sexual assertiveness, she hadn’t been with anyone in a very long time. Since the aforementioned Time Agent, actually. Maybe she had a  _thing_  for time travel – who knew?

Her mouth opens under his, and she runs her tongue along his bottom lip. His teeth scrape against her tongue and she gasps before he pulls her flush against him, turning her and pressing her hips into the console behind her. She feels that hum again, bleeding into her from the floor and console behind her and her hands slip under his jacket even as his mouth moves from hers to drift down her jaw, and then on down her throat. She licks her lips, tasting the sweetness of her lipstick and then she remembers – her  _lipstick_. She shoves him away suddenly, in a panic.

“Oh God, oh God – are you okay?!” She has her hands on his face, and his lips are still red from the transfer and she is trying to wipe it off, but he simply grins, and moves in for another kiss. She thinks he must be out of his mind as he kisses her thoroughly, his mouth exploring hers until she is lightheaded from the sensation. When he pulls away, his lips are by her ear.

“That doesn’t work on me.” She freezes, and moves to push him away again, but his arms are around her waist, pinning her in place.

“How do you – how did you-” She feels like she is trapped and her heart won’t stop jack hammering in her chest.

“Hallucinogenic lipstick. Distinct flavour you know – but drugs don’t have the same affect on me as they would on a human.” His voice is low, a rasp by her ear that sends delicious shivers through her entire being and she feels her hips sway toward his even as her mind reels.

“You’re not human?” Her voice is a breathless gasp and he presses his mouth to the spot just behind her ear, causing her knees to buckle weakly.

“Timelord.” She closes her eyes in understanding – she’d been told – been warned not to underestimate him, but she wishes she’d  _known_. She wonders if it would have changed the outcome of any of this – because she’s never felt so out of control of anything in her life before. He is a time traveller. A timelord. And he looks at her –  _touches_ her – like he knows her better than she knows herself.

“Oh God.” She pulls back to look in his eyes, finally recognizing the expression he has been looking at her with all evening. Familiarity. _Affection_. “You know me, don’t you?”

He looks stricken, pulling back somewhat and meeting her eyes. “I, uh- this isn’t my, I mean usually it’s-  _spoilers_.” He finally breathes the last word out, but she is having none of it. Spoilers – bah. She’s not asking him to tell her fixed points, or vast events. Her hands slide under his tweed coat and push it back off his shoulders and he is forced to move his hands away from her until it hits the glass floor below in a heap. She’s reaching up, her fingers tracing the knot of his bowtie as she smiles beguilingly up at him.

“Admitting we  _know_ each other isn’t a spoiler.” She whispers the words in his ear, standing on tip toe before moving her mouth downward and exploring the underside of his jaw. His neck is long and elegant and she runs her teeth along the muscles there, enjoying how his hands reach up and grip her shoulders tightly as she does it.

“River,” her name is a gasp and she smiles against his skin, pressing small kisses along his throat as her fingers unknot the tie quickly. “Shouldn’t we – you shouldn’t – you don’t know me.” He assumes that makes a difference, and she laughs up at him.  _Not_ that she’s the type of girl who goes around looking for casual sex, but he’s an exception to the rule.

She has a feeling that he’ll be the exception to a  _lot_  of rules, and the thought sends a riot of warmth seeping through her until it swirls and settles low in her groin.

“ _You_  know  _me_ though.” She points out calmly, her hands slipping buttons through cotton, and then under the warm fabric of his shirt to stroke his skin. It’s cool to the touch; the feeling is refreshing against her over-heated skin. Though his skin is cool, she can feel his heartbeat rioting through his ribcage, and she pauses, frowning at where her hands are placed. “ _Two_  hearts?” She looks up and his skin is flushed, despite its temperature and he is nodding. “ _Interesting_.” She murmurs, leaning forward to place a kiss to both sides of his chest, approximately where she thinks they must be. His breath hitches in his chest – a quick rise and he holds it there, as her fingers draw circles and trapezoids over his pectoral muscles. There is a fine dusting of hair there and she feels it tickle her palms.

“ _River_.” Her name again, sighed this time, so soft it barely stirs the curls of her hair and she thinks she hears surrender in it, capitulation. His hands release her shoulders, and cover her hands on his chest and she pauses, looking up into his eyes. They are lovely – beautiful and kind and so very, very  _ancient_. “It doesn’t have to be this soon-”

And she smiles because he’s just confirmed that he  _does_  know her and not only that but they will be lovers. Eventually. But she’s never been the patient type, so she wiggles her fingers under his and rises up on tip toe to capture his mouth once more. He never hesitates in his response, and she loves that. He kisses her in every way she’s ever imagined wanting to be kissed, and even does a few things with his tongue she’s not even  _thought_ of yet. She is breathless with need when he lifts his head, and she feels the urge to just crawl up over him and claim him. It’s a raw, primal emotion and she should be scared by it – but something about this man, and this  _place_  sooths her. Maybe it’s the humming, constant low vibrations that tickle her toes. “Why waste time with waiting?” She finally remembers that he’d been talking before that, and he grins crookedly in response. She can see the barest hint of a dimple and she congratulates her future self on her remarkable good taste. It’s like the longer she looks at him, the more attractive she finds him. That has to be worth something, right?

“You are  _amazing_ , River Song.” His hands release hers, drifting down to her waist and he lifts her effortlessly onto the console behind them. There are several switches digging into her thighs, but he steps between them, and she doesn’t really mind so much. Her hands tug his braces down, before she unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and pulls it off of him even as he is leaning over her, pressing his lips to her shoulders and up her throat. He runs his tongue over her clavicle and she shivers. Then he bites her there, and she feels the shock run straight through to her center as she gasps out loud. His hands are trailing up her calves, his fingers tracing lightly behind her knee, symbols she doesn’t recognize.  When his palms slide up her thighs her legs are instinctively falling open, and he pauses with a frown. “Is that a  _gun_?”

She grins, her face heating up while she nods. “You never know. I always wear it – it’s saved my life a fair few times you know.” His palms are sliding the skirt of her dress up to examine the thigh holster she had hidden underneath it.

“I didn’t even  _see_  it.” He is unbuckling the leather and it feels suddenly like he is exposing her more than if he’d stripped her naked right this minute. “Is there a perception filter woven in this?” He steps back, gun and holster in his hand now and he reached into his own pocket before pulling out some sort of tool and flicking it over the gun. The tip is bright green and it makes an odd buzzing sound that immediately makes her think of various incredibly dirty uses for it. It was  _quite_  long. And the shape was... definitely note-worthy.

“What’s that?” She slides off the console and stands closer to him, her hands exploring his upper body eagerly. She traces her fingertips over his ribs and he lets out a slight laugh before pushing her hands away.

“Sonic screwdriver. Highly useful tool – and this  _does_ have a perception filter woven in.” He turns and waves the gun around and she grabs it from him with concern before placing it on the glass floor next to her shoes gently. When she turns around she finds him admiring the view as she bent over and she grins.

“Perhaps you could stop playing with your toys, sweetie and give me a better tour. Say starting with oh, any room with a slightly comfortable horizontal surface. Any will do, really.” She walks toward him with purpose and he pockets his screwdriver before taking her hand. He all but runs her along the long corridor, which bends and winds in impossible ways – this ship is fascinating, but she’s got far more interest in exploring its pilot at the moment. When he finally stops moving, they are beside a door and she is almost out of breath. 

She opens the door and steps into a rather nice room – but she doesn’t give a damn about the decor – just the fact that there is a very large bed inside it. “Finally.” She mutters and he steps in behind her, his hands sweeping her hair over her shoulder as he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck. She shivers at the feel of his skin against her bare back, but she wants  _more_ , and he must sense that because he moves his head to bite the side of her neck gently while his hands smooth over the fabric of her dress looking for a zip or closure.  She shakes her head, stepping out of his arms and tugging the hem up and over her head in one smooth motion.

She turns to face him, and the expression on his face makes her heart ache in her chest. His hands lift, tracing her skin reverently and she shivers. “How come you know me before I know you?” The question has just occurred to her and he looks up at her, his hands frozen in place, one on her hip and the other just brushing under her breast. Her heart is beating faster and faster each second he stares sadly at her.

“Time travel.” He smiles, but there is an expression in his eyes that makes her feel hollow and brittle. “We keep meeting in the wrong order.” She turns the more complicated aspects of this over in her head, even while she is tugging him by his fallen braces and walking them back toward the bed. She turns and pushes him down on the bed, climbing up over him as his hands settling once again on her sides, his fingers again tracing those unfamiliar patterns into her skin – everywhere he can reach.

“How do you ever know when we are then? Because you thought I knew you tonight, didn’t you? That’s why you sat with me?” She leans forward as she speaks, her breasts brushing against his skin and she can feel his heartbeats on either side of her own – it feels like she is wrapped in the reverberation. She presses a kiss to his shoulder, one to his throat and moves up until she licks the underside of his jaw.

“Yes.” He hisses the word out and she smiles against his skin. “We have our little coping mechanisms.” His hands run down her back, slip under the elastic of her knickers and her cups one hand over her backside, pulling her down against him until she slides along the zipper of his pants in a most delicious fashion. She moans at the contact, sizzling sparks lighting in the corner of her mind, the heat hissing a bubbling just under her skin like water on a hot frying pan.

“And let me guess,” she asks in a breathless voice as she drags her hips up against him before sliding back down again slowly, his fingers in an almost bruising grip on her as they both groan, low in their throats, “spoilers?”

“Such a smart girl you are, River Song.” He moves his hand, gripping her hips tightly before rolling them over until she lands on the soft mattress with a thump. He is pressed over her, and she slides her hands up over his chest, pausing briefly over his hearts before she slides one hand into his floppy mess of hair and grins proudly.

“I’d say you have  _no_  idea, but you’ve got one over on me here sweetie.” His smile grows and he leans into her, his hands sliding into her hair as his mouth covers hers again. She decides that he tastes like biscuits and honey – vanilla and sugar and something less refined that she cannot quite put her finger on, but her tongue slides along his, eager to learn the answer. Her other hand sweeps down his back, scratching slightly and when he moans his tongue vibrates against hers and she can feel the heat between them build higher and higher in response. Every touch, every stroke of her skin, every curl wrapped around his fingers, every press of their hungry hips is stoking the fire that is raging unseen under the surface of her skin. “God.” She exhales roughly as she tears her mouth from his, her head thrown back against the bed beneath her.

Her hands are burrowing between them, struggling to find purchase so she can undo his pants and find out just how  _alien_ he is. At this point, she doesn’t even  _care_  – she just  _wants_  him pressed into the palm of her hand. Everything feels blessedly familiar when she does manage to wriggle her hand between them, and here she has finally found one part of him that feels as hot as she does. He is fiery silk underneath her hand and she traces the size and shape of him with a delighted moan.

His forehead rests against hers for a second and she feels the strangest sensation rush over her, an intense longing that feels unfamiliar but like she’s known it forever simultaneously.  She delights in the contradictions within him – his youth and age, his softness that hid rough edges she could only  _sense_  right now. His wonder and the expression haunting his face that she refused to name. She pushes his hips up above her, undoing his pants and shoving them down, along with his boxers, before letting him take over enough to kick his shoes off and brace himself on one arm while he struggles with shedding the last of his cloths. It's almost comical and he half-collapses on top of her while she laughs with delight.

It should be awkward and embarrassing, but it isn't at all. She just can't recall the last time she laughed in bed with someone – and it feels delightful. His face is sheepish and she brings her hands up to cradle it as she pulls him closer once again. She presses a soft kiss to his forehead, his eyebrows, his cheek bones and his nose. It feels lighter than it should, because a few moments ago it was all rushing heat and now it's slid back into tingling warmth, but she loves the ebb and flow of it all. It feels like they have all the time in the world – and maybe they do. Maybe they always do, and she likes the idea of that, even if she knows it's not a plausible one. It's not important that they  _do_  actually have all the time in the world, but it's foreign and wondrous to her that he makes her  _feel_  as though they do.

He is pressed into her, resting slightly to her left, and she can feel him hard and hot against her thigh. But his hands are moving over her body so, so, so slowly. Like he is memorizing every curve, mapping every rise and fall of her, his fingers tracing her skin, tickling the hollows of her hips while she squirms beneath him and his eyes taking in her every reaction steadily. He slides down her, a kiss over her heart, his palms pinning her hips to the mattress below them as he licks her sternum and pauses for a moment, his eyes close in concentration like he can decipher her just by her taste.

He moves again, small kisses over her breasts, his lips just brushing against them teasingly even as her back arches beneath him and her body pleads silently for more. She can feel his smile, crooked against her skin and she sighs in frustration as he continues his meandering path. His tongue is counting her ribs while his hands slide up to brush against her breasts, fingers rolling and twisting while she gasps and sighs. When his mouth reaches her hipbone, he bites her there; hard enough that she sits up, gasping as her hands reach into his hair and pull him back. He grins before laving the spot with his tongue while she sighs, the spike of pain leaving now and she is pulsating with restrained pleasure in its absence. His fingers hook under her knickers, dragging them down slowly and tossing them aside haphazardly. When he is finished, he looks down at her and stops for a moment to study her.

She is doing the same, her eyes tracing the lines of his neck into his shoulders, across the trim planes of his chest and down his pale arms. His body isn't her usual type, but there's a vulnerability mixed with raw sex appeal in it, and she looks at the line of his hips and swallows. She decides that much like his face, it is something she could only find more things to like about the more she looks at it.

“How many times have you done this?” Her question is spoken on a gasp as he settles again, his head pillowed on her stomach, and he laughs, pressing a small kiss just below her navel while her hands find their way into his hair, smoothing it back the way she’d wanted to back in the bar.

“You know I can’t answer that.” His head lifts and she sighs – there are so many questions, and she figures if she keeps on asking, he’ll slip up eventually. His hands are sliding around her hips, and underneath her while his mouth drags down over her hip to her inner thigh. It is so close, but too far and he knows this, so he is taking his own damn sweet time, running his tongue from her knee to hip, nipping occasionally while she shifted beneath him eagerly.

“But I bet it’s been loads.” She is smiling, but gasps at the end because that nip was a bit harder than the others and she laughs. “Oh, you’re a biter. It’s okay – I don’t mind.” She smiles down at him and he grins, one of his hands sliding out from beneath her and bushes oh so lightly against her sensitized flesh and she gasps, her hips bucking.

“I know.” He looks so smug she wants to slap him for a moment, but then his long fingers spread her apart and slide inside of her and the coolness of his skin is delicious against her heat and his palm grinds against her as his fingers twist  _just_  so inside and she can’t remember what her last thought even  _was_.

“Oh God!” She is pressing her hips up into his hand, one hand still in his hair while the other reaches out to her side, gripping the sheets below her in a blind fury. “Oh my god.” She pants the phrase and closes her eyes, seeing the white heat build up on the edges of the darkness as she feels him moving within her, talented fingers stroking her in places he shouldn’t even  _know_  about. She thinks that maybe being out of order is the best thing ever in life, at this very moment. Her hands clench and she sees colours – acid greens and reds and blues – blues and blues and  _such_  blues bursting across the darkness as her breathing becomes erratic and she is making inarticulate noises, she thinks, but she has no  _control_  over her vocal chords at the moment so she just grips her hands tighter and tighter, just hanging on while she rides the wave of her orgasm out.

When she can breathe normally again, his smug, beautiful, adorable face is the first things she sees when she opens her eyes. His hand slips away from between her legs, and he is reaching it toward his own mouth when she releases his hair and grips his wrist tightly in her hand. She pulls his hand toward her, and her tongue darts out, licking his fingers and the taste of her over the taste of his skin is unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. Salt and sweetness and the mixture is just indescribable. When she releases his wrist, his fingers trace her lips and she grins before biting at his fingers playfully. His grin bursts across his face even as his eyes are dark with lust. “That was greedy of you.” His voice is a low whisper and he moves up over her quickly, his fingers tangling into her hair as his tongue traces the path his fingers just took.

When he kisses her, he moans, and she knows he tastes traces of her inside her own mouth, his tongue sliding along hers with purpose, like he is trying to lap up every last trace of the flavour. She is gasping when he stops, and she feels lightheaded, his chest pressed to hers and their skin damp and sticky but she loves the weight of him, cradled between her thighs and pressing her into the bed.

There are a thousand other things she wants to do to him, wants to have done to her, but she can feel the heat of him, the thickness brushing against her and it is like friction – a small spark that lands in tinder and flames lick up her skin from the contact point. There will be time later for everything else, but her eyes meet his and a simple moment of pure understanding passes between them. It feels wondrous, because she can – she can read everything in the lines of his face, the light in his eyes. She sees it then, for just a moment as his hips lift and he slides into her slowly, filling her completely. She sees the infinity that exists between them, feels the knowledge, deep and sacred within her heart that this was what she’s been desperately searching for even though she wasn’t aware until this moment that she’d even been looking.

For a moment, he is still within her, and she can feel his racing heartbeats running next to hers, can feel the very pulse of him deep within her and she sighs in contentment. It’s overwhelming, and her heart feels like it may burst out of her ribcage at any given moment, and soak them both in her blood, but it’s something she can feel her body longing for. His forehead rests against hers for a moment and again she can feel all of her feelings intensify, like her heart has just been folded double. Her hips finally move under his and he lifts his head, understanding that she is eager for movement. For completion.

They move together like cresting waves – rising and breaking and receding. One of her hands is in his hair, while the other is sliding down his back, slick with sweat as she traces his spine and urges him even closer.  He is mirroring her position – one hand wrapped in curls while the other is gripping her hip as he rolls over her, rising and falling and rising and falling. She doesn’t close her eyes this time, even as she can feel the pressure building within her, her skin flushed from the heat of it all. She wants to  _watch_  him, watch the expressions that move across his face, watch the dilation of his pupils, watch how he watches her. Awe and wonder, and she is fairly certain she can see so much love there – it should frighten her.

It should.

But instead it feels like she’s finally come home.  She kisses him softly, eyes wide open as he picks up the pace, and she feels the thundering of his hearts like a vibration within her, a harmony that her own heart answers. Her head drops, but her eyes stay fixed on him – like he is the only thing in the room, the city, the world, the  _galaxies_. A fixed point above her that is the only thing pinning her down and stopping her from just flying away. She sees the blue stretching across her vision again and she smiles, her hips rising to his for increased tempo, increased friction as he slides into and against her. She can feel the orgasm, rushing past her, through her, all around both of them, and she wants him to feel it too, so her hand tightens behind his neck and she pulls his forehead to hers.

“Oh, oh  _River_.” His words whisper along her skin and she feels him tense above her, just as she screams within her own mind, a continuous keen that she  _knows_ he can hear. He is pressing into her, down and down and down and she is gasping from the sensation of him pouring into her, and she’s not quite sure what point it’s from, because she knows that this isn’t just a physical joining. She can  _feel_ him, his emotion, his age, his fury and wonder – everything. And it’s wonderful. When he collapses over her, slightly to the left, they are both panting and she is surprised to feel tears in her eyes.

It feels a bit ridiculous, but she cannot seem to stop them, so she simply sighs when she feels him slip from within her, and rolls into him as his arms wrap around them. When she can speak again, the first thing she does is laugh. “So telepathy, hmm?  _That’s_ new.”

“You’re too smart for your own good, do you know that River?” He is grumbling but there is a smile on his face and his hand is tracing along her side lightly.

“I do know that. Lucky you.” She smiles against his shoulder and he nods before his wandering hand inevitably finds its way back into her hair.

“I wasn’t expecting this you know. I didn’t think it would be... so immediate.”  She braces herself on one elbow and lifts her head to look down at him before smoothing her hand over his forehead gently.

“Does it make you think ill of me? I’m not normally well – like  _this_ , you know. But you’re... different.” She whispers the words, biting her lip in worry and he laughs, his hand sliding through her hair to rest against her neck.

“Not the sex – though that was a pleasant surprise, no I meant – what you  _felt_. Your mind – I thought I’d have to wait-” He sighs in frustration and looks at her with a frown. “It’s very difficult to not  _say_ anything you know. I don’t think I appreciated that much when it was you who knew everything. I probably shouldn’t have said  _that_  for example.” She laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, before ruffling his ridiculous hair.

“Alright, clearly post-coital you is a danger to our very timeline. So, you promised to show me the ship?”She slips from his arms easily; standing beside the bed and feeling the air cool her skin. She can feel his eyes on her but she doesn’t really mind, so she turns and holds out a hand. He grins before taking it and practically  _bouncing_  up out of the bed like a small child. He’s dragging his trousers back on and she frowns in disappointment for a moment, but that’s all he’s moved to put on, and somehow the image of him barefoot and in nothing but trousers with his braces still dangling from them pleases her ridiculously. Clearly he has somehow magically altered her notions of sexy, because this wouldn’t have been high on the list previously.

“Don’t you need your dress?” He is staring at her and she grins.

“I’m not cold.” She moves closer to him and wraps her arms around his waist and he leads her out of the room, back through the winding corridors that predictably feel like they’ve managed to get shorter, and into the main room once more. She scoops his discarded shirt off of the floor, and slips her arms into it, buttoning a few haphazard buttons in the front. The cotton is soft and it smells like him.

“Thought you weren’t cold?” His voice is next to her ear, low and teasing and she laughs.

“I’m not. I just like it.” She points out, before letting her feet wander the deck, looking up at the towering engine with awe. At least she assumed it was an engine. But the ship seems to hum under her feet and she is reminded of the gentle vibrations she felt earlier. When she places a hand on the console, the hum dips and rises, like a sigh or a greeting and she looks over at him in wonder. “She’s not  _just_  a ship, is she?”

His smile is slow and he shakes his head. “No. Now stop stealing my thunder and figuring everything out first! How am I supposed to impress you if you’re constantly a step ahead of me? Though I like it- feels nice and familiar anyway. I was worried about that too, you know – how much you’d have changed. And I shouldn’t have said  _that_  either – forget that.”

She runs her fingers over the odd controls – typewriters and sticks, knobs and blinking lights and there’s even water taps and some kind of odd coolant container – as she glances over at him. “Oh I’m plenty  _impressed_  Doctor, and wouldn’t you rather it be by you than your ship?” He pauses at that, pondering the question before nodding slowly.

“Oh... yeah.” She takes the opportunity to slip under his arm and press herself against his side.

“So what  _am_  I like? In the future?” He glances down at her reproachfully and smiles.

“Can’t tell you that River.” She pouts up at him, her arms circling his waist and pulling him in closer.

“And why not? It’s not specifics – just impressions. Not events, not even details really – no spoilers.” His expression of resolve weakens and she grins, because she knows she has him.  “What do you think of me Doctor – once I’m older?”

“These aren’t the questions I expected you to ask.” He is muttering, and scratching the back of his neck as he avoids looking down at her. She just ignores all that and presses a soft kiss to his shoulder, before moving up to his neck. “Ahhh... not fair, River!” He practically twirls and dances out of her arms but she follows him around the console, stalking him.

“It’s just a question.”

“Questions can be very bad, very not good. Very  _dangerous_.” His face is serious and he stops escaping for a moment to take her by the shoulders, looking down at her sadly. “What if I tell you something – and it changes everything?  _That_  knowledge? It might not seem important now, River, might seem inconsequential, or frivolous – but what you need to understand is that I don’t want one  _second_  of any of our history – future in your case – to change. Not one  _moment_.” She feels chastised and oddly guilty for having forced him to explain this.

“I understand.” She answers him sombrely and he smiles in relief before pulling her into his arms and wrapping himself around her. Her heart is tripping in her chest, and she suddenly realizes that while he can’t tell her anything, she should maybe tell him  _everything_. “Doctor...” she hesitates, because how does she say this? It sounds  _horrible_  – and oh God, what if he thinks that she’s still doing this for a job?

“What is it River?” He pulls back and looks down at her, his hand moving up to settle on the side of her neck gently. She pulls away from him, leading him over to one of the chairs and pushes him down into it. Once he is seated she kneels before him, her cheek against his knee as she looks up at him nervously.

“I have to tell you something.” She speaks softly, pulling her purse toward her and pulling out the picture and list she’d been given last night. “Last night I was at the bar when a man approached me. I didn’t see his face, he was wearing a blue cloak – but he wanted to hire me.”

“Hire you? Hire you  _how_  exactly?” He sits up straighter, irritation crossing his face and she sighs softly.

“I’m in my final year of university you know, yes? It’s - well it’s expensive, and I don’t know how much you know about my history but... I’ve had to work my way through school.” She doesn’t feel ashamed of what she’s had to do to survive, but she feels incredibly apprehensive about his reaction, and she swallows heavily. “Probably doing things you wouldn’t approve of. Theft sometimes. Some less-than-legal jobs.”

He leans forward, running a hand through her hair as he smiles down at her. “River, you’re a survivor.  And no matter what you’ve done, you’re not a bad person.”

“I’ve done terrible things, Doctor.” Her voice is smaller now, and his hand continues to stroke her hair softly.

“Haven’t we all?” His voice is soft and understanding so she sighs and pulls back, out of his reach so she can push the papers into his hands.  He looks down in confusion and then up at her again. “What is this?”

“The job I was given last night. Meet you, detain you for twelve hours. That was it. I don’t know why, and I don’t know who hired me.  But I want you to understand – I... none of this was about that. Please believe me.” He examines the paper, licking it before a curious look spreads across his face.

“ _Ah_.” He breathes the word out before tossing aside the papers. “Twelve hours. How clever.”

“He said it was his favourite number... it was all rather odd, but Doctor we should figure this out-” He reaches for her arms, pulling her up until she in on her knees before him and his hands are cupping her face.

“Nah. Already know who it was. Got it all figured out – can’t tell you though. But no one is in any danger, I promise. Do you trust me?” She stares at him incredulously and hesitates. She’s never trusted anyone, never been given any reason to, never found anyone who she ever felt inclined to trust outside of herself. He is asking for something so simple, and yet so complicated, all at once. But she remembers what she’d  _felt_  in that room and finds herself nodding. She is shocked by her own answer, but he leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead softly, his hands in her hair once more. “Everything will be fine. So – we’ve got what? Nine or so hours left?”

She can’t understand why he’s not concerned about any of this. It seems like a reason to be concerned – someone wanted him out of the way. She glances down at the paper, looks at the list of aliases – far too many for one lifetime. She wracks her brain trying to remember everything she’s ever read about Timelords – the species had reigned for millennia, but mysteriously died out with no explanation. There was a war... several of them if she remembered correctly... it had been so long since her last Intergalactic History class. She picked up the blue paper and frowned. Blue paper, blue cloak, blue money bag... blue box.

Twelve was his favourite number. She glances up at the Doctor, who is watching her with amusement. “You never listen do you? Well, what have you got for me?”

“It was you. Last night. Not you now, but a future you. But it wasn’t the same voice-”

“I’ve had loads of different faces, River. Timelords don’t die, exactly – well they do, eventually but before that they regenerate. Twelve times.” She feels a coldness settle into her chest as she looks up at him fearfully.

“What number are-”

“Eleventh.” He responds before she even finishes speaking and she reaches out, grasping his shoulders in her hands as she looks at him.

“But that’s so far along – what if we don’t have enough time-” He laughs, pulling her up onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her.

“Time machine. There will always be enough time, River. Plus it’s all the wrong order. I’m not the only me you’ll ever see.” He frowns quickly. “Which brings up a whole other set of issues.”

“How will I know? And do you stay you? This you – your mind, your hearts – they don’t change do they?” She finds this information startling. She’s only just decided that she could look at this face forever only to find out it might change. What if she didn’t like it? Of course it wasn’t the face that you love – no, not love. Not  _yet_. Grew attached to. It was the man.

“All my memories, well most – yes.  I’m the same, but a bit... different each time. Listen – we’ve plenty of time to go over this. Future time, not  _now_  time. I mean, I’ve got a very lovely half-dressed girl in my lap, I’d rather not go over the various pains and tortures of my long life, if that’s alright. Just for now.” She leans into him, her fingers walking across the smooth skin of his chest until she can just stretch them far enough apart to feel both of his hearts at once. They beat out of time with each other, and the rhythm is fascinating to her.

“How old are you?”

“That’s  _really_  rude.” He protests and she simply arches a brow at him before rising up to settle her legs on either side of his waist and sitting down again. His hands grip her waist and she grins down at him. “Nearly a thousand.” He finally grumbles when it’s clear she’s not going to move until he answers her.

“That’s very old. Do you age? I mean within each body? Because I cannot imagine how I’ll feel traipsing around with your little baby face once I’m older looking than you. Actually that’s a lie – I’ll probably feel very sexy about it all. So long as I’m not  _much_  older looking. What happens once I get  _really_  old, Doctor?” She is teasing him now and he sighs, pulling her closer and kissing her softly. She suspects it’s mostly just to shut her up, but she doesn’t mind so she runs her tongue along his bottom lip before sucking on it gently and scraping her teeth against it. His grip tightens on her waist – his hands clench and then relax as he slides his hands under the hem of his shirt and up her bare back. When they pull apart to breathe she smiles down at him softly, her hands over his shoulders and her chest pressed against his. “You can’t just do that anytime you want me to shut up.”

“No? Well you can do it to me anytime you want me to shut up. I give you permission.” She laughs and his hands flatten on her back, practically covering her.

“And what if the you I meet hasn’t given your permission yet?”  He grins up at her, tilting his head forward and pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of her throat.

“Well I doubt I’d complain about it, regardless.”  He looks back up at her reverently and she swallows suddenly, the smile sliding off of her face.

“This is it isn’t it? This is the rest of my  _life_  isn’t it?” His face grows grave and he shakes his head slightly in response. “I know, I know. _Spoilers_. But you don’t have to tell me – I can feel it. I just... know.”

“We’re not together always River, and I’d never want you to stop-” This time she leans down and stops his words with her mouth, catching them with her tongue and secreting them away, deep inside of her. When she pulls back she smiles brightly, determined to never let him see how that thought hurt already.

“Of course not. I have my whole career planned out, sweetie. But if you want to pop by every now and then and take me away on adventures that always end like this – well I wouldn’t be opposed.” She says it all very quickly, and his hands slide back down the skin of her back before circling up again.

“You mean you’ll let me take you somewhere next time?”

“Well I don’t know dear, allies behind bars are just  _so_ romantic-” She laughs as his fingers move to tickle her mercilessly. “Maybe I’ll let you take me somewhere now.”

“Really?” His face lights up and she cannot help but feel her own heart lighten at the sight of it. “Hmm first trip – has to be good. Has to be  _spectacular_  – where can I take you River Song?  _When_  can I take you?”

“Oh anytime you’d like sweetie.” She grins down at him smugly and he blushes, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. She hugs him tightly in response, because somehow there is no response that seems feasible outside of squeezing him to her so hard she felt like she would hurt him. “But if you don’t have me back in time for tomorrow morning, I  _may_  have to hurt you.”

“Time machine. I could have you with me for so very long before then.” He whispers the words into her hair and his arms are wrapped around her just as tightly as hers are around him.

“I’d like to come back not  _excessively_  older than I am now, Doctor. Besides I don’t know how smart you think I am but I can’t just drop back into school weeks after being gone.”

“More than smart, River. You’re  _brilliant_.” He stands easily, lowering her until her feet touch the glass floor, pulling her over to the main console and clapping excitedly like a child. “Now,  _pay attention_ , Miss Song because I am going to teach you a thing or two about flying my magical box.”

“Aren’t you afraid if I know how to fly her I’ll just handcuff you in a room somewhere and fly myself about the galaxy?” She is teasing of course but he glances behind them suspiciously.

“Did you bring the handcuffs? Oh I bet you  _did_ , you are such a bad girl River.” He didn’t sound upset about it at all though, his voice is a mixture of flirtation and awe. “Well,” he threw a few levers with flourish and turned knobs before dancing around her to the keyboard, where he tapped out a series of numbers and nonsensical symbols, “I’ll have you know River Song, that if you  _do_ happen to handcuff me to anything chances are more than likely that I’ll enjoy it.”  He grins at her and she laughs in surprise as he takes her hand and pulls her over to a lever with odd green lights along it. He puts her hand on it and nods at her, before stepping behind her and bracing his hands on either side of her at the console. She looks over her shoulder for permission and he nods, so she pulls the lever and the ship immediately lurches to the left, but with him behind her, she goes nowhere.  All she can do is laugh and hang on.

“Now  _there’s_  a spoiler for you.”

 


End file.
